


There has to be a first time for everything

by bigleosis



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Wilde (1997)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is in love with Oscar Wilde, Aziraphale is not naive, Aziraphale isn't a virgin, Aziraphale-centric, Character Death, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley confronting Aziraphale with his feelings, Crowley is a good friend, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lemon, M/M, Major Character Death is for Oscar Wilde, Sex, Slash, Smug Aziraphale, Smut, They love each other, Voyeurism, devestated Aziraphale, sparkling pornography, that wall is taking a beating tonight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22525603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigleosis/pseuds/bigleosis
Summary: Aziraphale has been in love with Oscar Wilde since he met him.But he never acted on his feelings, until one night they meet in a discreet Gentlemen's club in London and a very passionate night follows.A few years later Aziraphale has to say goodbye to his friend and lover forever.Aziraphale also loves one certain demon, but Crowley can never know that.But after the nopocalypse Crowley finally buckles up and confronts Aziraphale about his feelings, and what he saw back in 1895.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Robbie Ross (friendship), Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Oscar Wilde, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, we are able to post our part of the #GoodOmensBigBang.
> 
> I don't even know where to start.  
> First of all I want to thank my lovely artist [hastur_lavista](https://twitter.com/hastur_lavista) for picking my story. You are such a precious human being and I am glad you decided to do art for this story. It was a pleasure to collab with you <3
> 
> Not to mention my two beautiful betas sprungfedergirl and Cirilien. You did a marvelous job of getting this story ready with me.  
> And Cirilien you deserve a special thank you! You spurred me on like no one else over the last few months. Thank you for being there when I needed you and dealing with my stupid questions. You made this story better with your input and hilarious comments! Thank you so so much!
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who had to endure my panic attacks and rambling over the last few months. I am very VERY sorry!
> 
> **~*~ ~*~**  
> 

**There has to be a first time for everything | 01**

It had been a while since Aziraphale had visited one of those establishments.  
He hadn't been in the mood and he had to tend to his bookshop after all. But he had been bored today. Aziraphale hadn't seen Crowley for quite a while now, and if he was honest with himself, he missed the demon's company. He always had the best ideas to save Aziraphale from his boredom. Sometimes Crowley took him out for dinner, or they caught up with each other about business. But he couldn't say out loud that he missed the demon. They were hereditary enemies, after all.  
So he decided to go to the gentlemen's club he'd visited in the past when he was in the mood for decent company and sometimes even more. Aziraphale called a carriage and drove to his destination. It was already late evening, but the streets were still full of life. People walking home from their jobs, couples wandering through the parks, enjoying the still warm air and a starry night sky.

After he arrived, the other guests of the establishment welcomed Aziraphale warmly. It was no time at all before he found himself in conversation with another patron and a drink in his hand. It was good to be here and Aziraphale had always been one to enjoy the warm and cosy atmosphere of the club. The dark wall panels, the carpeting, the oil lamps which gave the whole club a homely atmosphere and of course the small separeés where one could indulge secretly with another gentleman. Or in plain sight for the other visitors, whatever tickled you fancy.  
Aziraphale was still talking to the other man when someone placed a warm hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, a broad smile spreading over his face as he saw who stood behind him.

“Oscar,” he exclaimed happily, placing his tumbler down before getting up to embrace Oscar, a laugh rumbling through Oscar's chest. “It's good to see you,” Aziraphale said warmly.

“It's been a while,” Oscar agreed. “Where have you been Ezra? I've missed your company.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Liar! I am sure you've had enough charming company, even without me.”

Aziraphale excused himself from his former collocutor — who gave him a knowing smile — took his glass, and followed Oscar to a small booth with a table and soft armchairs. It was unique of this establishment to have those small secluded areas, a good place for a private conversation.

“I haven't heard from you in a long time,” Oscar rephrased his first statement.

“Oh, you know. I've been busy with the bookshop and I had to take some trips abroad to help a … a friend of mine with his business.”

“Is that so?” Oscar asked with a light teasing tone and a certain glimmer in his eyes. “But tonight you fancied a visit here? As well as I did? That's what I would call destiny. Don't you think so, Ezra?”

Aziraphale smiled into his drink. “I would call it some kind of coincidence, that's true,” he answered honestly. “How have you been Oscar?”

The writer gave him one of his secretive smiles before he started to talk.  
If Aziraphale remembered correctly, they'd seen each other one and a half years ago for one of Oscar's plays, _Salome_. Aziraphale had gotten himself two premiere tickets, and after some moaning and complaining, Crowley had joined him.

It had been a lovely evening. Before the play, they'd dined at one of the newest restaurants in town and the play itself had been wonderful and so well written. The actors had poured their love into it, and Aziraphale had been enraptured by their performance and enjoyed it very much. After the play, he'd seen Oscar and talked to him for a short while before he had been called away by another one of his admirers.  
And to talk to him now was so refreshing.  
Oscar told Aziraphale about his works, which Aziraphale still admired. He owned every first edition of Oscar's books, personally signed by the author and they held a special place in his shelf, and of course, his heart.

Aziraphale lost track of time and he only realised how late it was when the noises around them grew louder and louder. Aziraphale looked up when he felt Oscar's hand on his.

“Do you want to … I know we've never done that before and it is bold of me to ask, but would you like to spend the night with me Ezra?”

“Bosie?”

“I am sure he won't mind. He's having fun on his own, I suppose.”

Aziraphale paused, it was true, they'd never done that before. Some kissing, yes. And Aziraphale was no stranger to the earthly pleasures of sex.  
He'd had plenty affairs over the centuries and he had always cared for Oscar. Also, there had been a particular reason why he had decided to come here tonight. He had felt lonely.

“I wouldn't say no to a little bit of company tonight,” Aziraphale answered.

Oscar gave him a warm, knowing smile before he emptied his glass in one gulp, Aziraphale followed his example. After that, the other man took Aziraphale's hand, rose from his armchair and led Aziraphale away from the booth to the private rooms.  
They'd crossed half of the room when Aziraphale saw Bosie out of the corner of his eye. The young man was involved with two other gentlemen and Aziraphale's heart clenched with a sudden pang of sadness. Oscar really didn't deserve that kind of treatment from the young lord.

Aziraphale stopped abruptly, pulling Oscar back to him, spinning him so they faced each other before Aziraphale placed his hands gently on Oscar's cheeks, locking his eyes with him. Pale blue eyes with golden flecks around the iris met heavenly blue ones. Surprise coloured Oscar's face, not knowing what was going on. Aziraphale slowly pulled Oscar's face down to him, pressed his lips oh so softly on the other man's. Aziraphale tenderly caressed his cheek before he kissed Oscar in earnest.  
Not the innocent kind they'd shared a few times before, but a real, passionate kiss. Aziraphale bent his head and his hands moved from Oscar's cheeks into his soft dark curls, both holding and guiding him, as he kissed him with fervour, pressing his body against Oscar's, who wrapped his strong arms around Aziraphale's waist, pulling him even closer. Aziraphale's tongue caressed his lower lip before he gently pulled it between his teeth and sucked on it, eliciting a low moan from Oscar. Aziraphale removed his fingers from Oscar's hair and broke the kiss slowly.  
They were both breathing hard and Aziraphale felt the obvious arousal of Oscar pressed against his stomach. Their eyes met once again and Aziraphale saw the awe and the hunger in Oscar's eyes. And he had never been more beautiful before with his flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips.

It took Oscar only a moment to recover himself before he pulled Aziraphale after him to the private rooms. Aziraphale cast one last glance over his shoulder to see the jealous expression on Bosie's face. _'You could have him all to yourself if you'd just treat him like he deserves to be treated,'_ Aziraphale thought with a smug grin on his face.

A few of the doors were already closed, but Oscar found an empty room and dragged Aziraphale into it. Oscar gave the door a small push to close it before he pinned Aziraphale against the next wall and kissed him again.  
Aziraphale let himself be manhandled and he rather enjoyed it. His past lovers had all been lovely but rather shy about their desires. Aziraphale liked it when a lover knew what they wanted, and got rough with him sometimes, and with Oscar it was obvious what he wanted. He was taller then Aziraphale, so Oscar used the height difference in his advantage, caging Aziraphale against the wall. One hand pressed against the wall next to Aziraphale's head, the other on his hip, holding him in place, while his tongue plundered his mouth.  
Aziraphale could feel the need around them and it wasn't Oscar's need alone. He desired the other man as well, had desired him since their first conversation all those years back. But Aziraphale hadn't been ready, had always felt that they still needed time and Aziraphale had feared for their friendship if things between them should go south.  
All he wanted now was to get Oscar out of those ridiculous clothes, get him naked and let Oscar take him.

Aziraphale broke their kiss to remove the bothersome clothing. Oscar seemed to have the same idea and nearly ripped his shirt in the process. Aziraphale winced a bit. It wasn't like he couldn't get a new one, but he was fond of his things, thank you very much.  
As soon as the fabric was falling from his shoulders Oscar attacked his neck with kisses and bites. Aziraphale wasn't able to hold back another moan as his head slumped back and hit the wall behind him. It felt heavenly to finally have Oscar's lips on his skin.  
He heard a small noise from the door and turned his head, giving Oscar even more space to attack his neck in the process. The door was ajar, and Aziraphale nearly expected to see Bosie. But he only caught a glimpse of very familiar red hair and a pair of well known golden eyes. But that was impossible …  
Aziraphale closed his eyes for a short moment when Oscar bit into a sensitive spot on his shoulder and groaned loudly. When he opened his eyes again the appearance was gone. He closed the door completely with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention back to his current lover.

Oscar had kissed his way up his neck to Aziraphale's jaw and he let his tongue glide over his chin. Aziraphale dug his fingers deeper into Oscar's hair and guided him back, so he could seal their lips for another kiss. He let his tongue glide between Oscar's lips and devoured his mouth.  
Oscar's hands busied themselves with opening the fastenings of Aziraphale's trousers and pushed them down his legs, together with his undergarments. Aziraphale stepped out of them after he had removed his shoes without breaking the kiss. Oscar's hands roamed freely over Aziraphale's naked body, and he shuddered under the careful and soft touches of the other man.

When Oscar trailed down his back, and even lower, Aziraphale moaned into the kiss before he moved his head backwards, breaking their kiss and looking into Oscar's eyes, which burned with open desire.

“I want you Ezra,” Oscar whispered.

“Then take me,” Aziraphale answered without hesitation.

Oscar looked down at him and Aziraphale guided his hand further between his buttocks. Oscar's eyes flashed dangerously, his smile grew wider and a loud groan escaped his lips at what he felt there.

“Hmm, Mr. Fell, you came prepared.”

“The best men do,” Aziraphale answered with a wicked grin and opened the buttons of Oscar's trousers with skilful movements.

He pushed the trousers just a bit down so Oscar's hard cock was freed from its fabric prison. Aziraphale ran his hands back over Oscar's chest, following his own movements with his eyes. Their eyes met when Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Oscar's neck. His features were still coloured with amazement, as if he still couldn't believe that Aziraphale was real and here with him, giving himself to Oscar. And there was an untamed lust Aziraphale had never seen before which made him feel desirable again. It made him ecstatic and he really had to control himself to not ruin the mood by suddenly starting to levitate. It tended to happen, when he was really happy.  
Aziraphale's fingers dug into Oscar's dark locks again and he pulled him back down for another short passionate kiss. Oscar's hand glided down Aziraphale's legs, wrapping around his thighs and hoisted him up as if he weighed nothing. Aziraphale gasped at the display of strength and wrapped his legs around Oscar's hips.  
Oscar pushed into Aziraphale just a short moment later. Aziraphale broke the kiss with a loud moan and he let his head fall back again. Aziraphale loved the feeling of being stretched open by Oscar, who took the opportunity to press his face against Aziraphale's neck, kissing and sucking at the tender skin there, leaving dark marks in his wake.  
Aziraphale's fingers dug into the meat of Oscar's shoulders. With every thrust he pushed Aziraphale up the wall, the tapestry scratched against the skin of his back. Every push dragged another unashamed moan from Aziraphale's lips. When Oscar placed his hands on his arse and lifted him a bit more, Aziraphale cried out. With every push of his hips Oscar hit his sweet spot dead on and soon the angel was a panting and moaning mess, entirely unable to contain the sounds he made. Aziraphale had his eyes closed, his lips were slightly parted and they felt swollen from all the kissing. Lust coursed through his body, making his cheeks feel like they were on fire. Every time when Oscar's breath now ghosted over his sweaty skin, Aziraphale shivered in delight, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin.  
Aziraphale let Oscar's love and longing wash over him, basking in the feeling of untamed want and need, of love. He was in ecstasy.  
It had been a long time since he had a caring lover like Oscar, but this may have had something to do with their shared history and friendship, the trust built between them over the past years.

The other man captured Aziraphale's lips with his and sealed them in a passionate kiss before he came with a loud moan. Aziraphale was so close himself and he wanted to reach his climax so badly. He whimpered against Oscar's lips, trying to move his hips but Oscar was strong, and his hands were like a vice, keeping Aziraphale in place while he ravished his mouth with his tongue.  
Oscar slipped out carefully, placing Aziraphale back on wobbly legs before Oscar broke the kiss and sank to his knees. Oscar met Aziraphale's eyes for a moment before he wrapped his lips around Aziraphale's cock not a second later and a loud cry escaped Aziraphale's lips, while his head connected hard with the wall. Aziraphale's fingers dug into Oscar's hair as Oscar pleasured him with his wicked tongue.

“Oscar ...” Aziraphale panted. “Your fingers … please … inside ...”

He wasn't able to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. All he wanted was Oscar's fingers inside him and Oscar seemed to understand him even with the lack of words and pushed three of his fingers back into Aziraphale. He moaned loudly as Oscar moved his fingers inside him, completely lost in the sensation.  
When Oscar drew back again, letting his tongue glide over the tip of Aziraphale's cock and pushed his fingers back in at the same time, Aziraphale reached his orgasm. A loud shout escaped his lips, as stars exploded before his eyes and a wave of pleasure ran through his body, while the muscles around Oscar's fingers clenched and he spilled down the other man's throat.  
It was blissful, and the only thing that prevented Aziraphale from toppling over was Oscar's strong hand on his hip.

He was still riding on his high, when Oscar stood. He placed his hands on Aziraphale's cheeks, kissing him softly and lovingly.

“Let us stay here for the night?” Oscar suggested and Aziraphale nodded, still dazed.

Oscar kissed him once more before helping him into the bed. Ridding himself of his own trousers, he climbed in behind Aziraphale, pulling him into his solid chest for a tight hug. Aziraphale placed his hand over Oscar's arm. He closed his eyes, let himself be surrounded by Oscar's body heat, and drifted off to sleep.

They made love twice more during that night, taking pleasure from each other and seeking the comfort they needed.  
The first time Aziraphale woke with a moan on his lips when Oscar slipped into him from behind. He was pulled against Oscar's chest while the other man pushed slowly in and out of him. Aziraphale turned his head and was met halfway by Oscar for another kiss. Their lovemaking was sweet and slow and they reached their orgasms together.  
The second time Aziraphale had turned Oscar onto his back, intertwining their fingers and holding Oscar's arms above his head, while he rode the other man hard. Chasing his own pleasure and using Oscar for his needs. Aziraphale had collapsed onto him after he had come again and Oscar had pulled him into another hug, placing a soft kiss on his sweat soaked hair, his fingers drawing senseless patterns on Aziraphale's back, raising goosebumps over his whole body.

Aziraphale left the still sleeping Oscar shortly before sunrise. He dressed as silently as possible and watched the dark haired man on the bed. It had been a wonderful night and Aziraphale hoped, deep down in his heart, that Bosie would realise how special Oscar was.  
Or that Oscar would finally realise that Bosie wasn't the right one for him. That there was one other man in his life who loved him without hesitation, who would follow Oscar to hell and back if he must. Because Aziraphale knew how it felt to love someone with all his might and all his heart, but that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

Aziraphale wasn't able to stay any longer because he had to go back to the bookshop.  
He went back to the bed and placed a feather-light kiss on Oscar's cheek, letting his fingers glide over the other man's warm skin for a last time. He would remember this night forever. He would treasure it and keep it safe within its heart.

As he left the establishment, Aziraphale put on his hat and started walking to Soho. It was still early, but when he crossed Piccadilly Circus the sun started to rise behind the buildings, filling the sky with shades of orange and pink. Peach and magenta, amber and rose, radiating hope, a new beginning. Another chance to live. The start of a brand new day, as London started to wake from its sleep.  
A small smile played over Aziraphale's face when he thought about last night. His hand wandered absent-mindedly to his neck, where the marks Oscar had left were covered by the collar of his dress shirt.  
He was sure Oscar would be awake by now, still lying in bed, looking devilishly handsome in his naked and dishevelled state and reading the small note Aziraphale had left for him.

_'Keep love in your heart.  
A life without it is like a sunless garden when flowers are dead.'   
\- Oscar Wilde -_


	2. Chapter 2

**There has to be a first time for everything | 02**

It was a wet and foggy day in central London and it fitted Aziraphale's mood. He had been sulky all day without a particular reason, felt nervous, and he had a bad feeling nagging at the back of his mind.  
The last few years had been a tough time in London for gentlemen who preferred the company of men, and Oscar's imprisonment had been the talk of the whole country for a very long time. Aziraphale didn't know were this thought came from so suddenly, but maybe it was the weather. It had been the same at the final day of Oscar's trial. It had been a normal rainy day in London. But a day that had changed nearly everything for him.  
Aziraphale was still in contact with Robbie, who had moved to France, like nearly everyone else after what had happened to Oscar. Aziraphale had stayed in London, he didn't want to leave his bookshop and he could miracle himself out of precarious situations if it was needed.  
But no one had been interested in the odd book dealer who had been at court every single day during the trial. It had been devastating to see Oscar treated like he was an abomination, as if it had been him who had lured Bosie into their sexual encounters. They'd tried to tell that Oscar was some kind of predator and Bosie was his poor victim. Everyone close to them knew that they were both consenting adults. And Bosie, in Aziraphale's humble opinion, hadn't treated him well anyway.  
On the day of Oscar's sentence, Aziraphale had helped Robbie to get his belongings and leave London as quickly and safely as possible.

When Oscar had been released from prison in May 1897, in a very sorry and dreadful state of body and soul, Aziraphale had helped him as well, sending him off to France to meet with Robbie, so he could take care of Oscar. But of course, he had met Bosie after six months and had moved in with him. Their relationship lasted for a bit over a half year before they parted ways for good this time. At least that's what Aziraphale hoped.

**~*~**

Aziraphale was in the back of his shop, answering a letter to one of his customers he'd ignored for too long already when he heard the ring of the bell above the door. He placed down his fountain pen and walked out to the front.  
There was a young man standing in his shop, looking rather lost.

“Can I help you,” Aziraphale asked.

“Uhm, yes. Are you Mr … Fell?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I am.”

The young chap held out a folded piece of paper to him, which Aziraphale took cautiously. “A telegraph from France,” the man explained. “It's urgent, my boss said.”

Aziraphale nodded again and unfolded the paper while he turned away from the other man. It was a short message, but the words made his heart clench. Never had he dreaded these words more than now.  
_'Oscar's very weak; fear for the worst; asked for you; please come fast; Robbie'_  
Aziraphale's fingers clenched around the paper and he took a deep, unsteady breath before he dragged his hands over his face.

“Bad news, sir?”

He turned back around, facing the messenger again. “Very bad,” Aziraphale confirmed with a shaky voice.

If Robbie's words held any truth he really had to travel fast. He paid the man with a few coins from his jacket and after the man had left, Aziraphale closed up the shop and went upstairs to his small flat to pack a few things for his journey.  
He would try to get the next ship to Paris. Of course he could travel by wings, which would be the fastest way possible, but he wanted to raise no suspicion from Above. He felt safer that way.  
Aziraphale didn't want to spend a thought on the reasons for his travels on the way to the harbour. Aziraphale purchased a first class ticket to Paris. It was the only one left and he wanted to get there as fast as possible. A journey by train would take him more than four days, so he took the ship even when he wasn't very fond of this kind of transportation. The up and down movements made him feel queasy. And even by ship it would still take him nearly two days to get to Paris and he was running against time, running against Death himself.

**~*~**

Aziraphale arrived, after an exhausting journey, at the Hôtel d'Alsace late at night on November the 28th. He was greeted by Reginald Turner, one of Oscar's closest friends.

“How is he?” Aziraphale asked the other man when he stepped into the room, taking in his surroundings.

The place was in a very bad condition, filthy and messy and it smelled of sickness and death. No wonder Oscar was in such a sorry state.

“He's drifting in and out of consciousness. He has for the last two days. The fever is still high and won't break,” Reggie answered. “I've called for Robbie, as I fear for the worst, and I assume Robbie informed you then. Oscar wanted to see him. I guess he'll arrive within the next few hours.” Reginald looked at him. “I'm glad you're here Ezra.”

Aziraphale placed down his little travel bag by the door and walked over to the bed.  
Oscar looked terrible. His face was nearly as white as the bed sheets, his hair was soaked with sweat, some strands plastered to his forehead. His cheeks were reddened by the fever and his eyes were surrounded by dark circles and sunken in.  
Aziraphale sighed loudly before he sat down on a chair next to the bed.  
Carefully he took one of Oscar's hand in his, squeezing it a bit, but getting no response. He literally could feel the life draining from Oscar and all he wanted to do was weep and shout and beg God for Her to stop it, to give Oscar just a few years more. But Aziraphale knew it would be a lost case, She would never listen to him. And even when She did, Oscar had been caught in a deep depression for years.  
Even if it was cynical of Aziraphale to think like that but maybe it was better. Maybe Oscar was going to a better place after all.

Reggie placed a cup of tea next to Aziraphale on the bedside table before he sat down in a nearby armchair, giving Aziraphale the chance to be close to Oscar. They sat there in silence, watching Oscar drift in and out of sleep.  
Aziraphale got up to open the windows at some point during the evening, to let in some fresh air. Afterwards he went to the bathroom, filling a bowl with cold water, grabbing some cloths and returned to Oscar's bed, where he placed the bowl next to his tea and put a wet cloth on Oscar's forehead.  
Reggie got up around one in the morning to answer the door. Aziraphale changed the dry wash cloth on Oscar's forehead for a new one as Robbie entered the room. He looked horrible. His usual well tended-hair was a mess, and if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, he hadn't slept in days.  
Aziraphale rose from his place next to Oscar and went to the other man. Robbie only had eyes for the man on the bed, and Aziraphale was able to feel his anguish and his pain, he was mourning his lost love already.  
Aziraphale took Robbie's bag, handed it over to Reggie and led Robbie to the bed. The young man sat down by Oscar's head, carding his fingers through the soaking wet hair. Aziraphale took a step back, next to the waiting Reginald.

“How long do you think …” He wasn't able to finish his question and Aziraphale wouldn't have been able to answer it. He had never felt this helpless before in his whole existence.

**~*~**

At one point during the late morning hours, Robbie asked that someone send for a priest.  
The man arrived not an hour later and started praying nearly as soon as he entered the room. They were able to wake Oscar from his unconsciousness so he could answer the priest's questions. Robbie was kneeling next to the bed and prayed with the clergyman.  
Aziraphale watched the exchange with mixed feelings, albeit he knew of Oscar's catholic upbringing, but he wondered if this was really necessary. None of the people they prayed to would be able to help or even save Oscar now. Humans had some strange behaviour sometimes, even when Aziraphale could understand the sentiment.

Reggie fell asleep in his armchair past noon, exhaustion clear on his face. Shortly afterwards the priest left. Aziraphale and Robbie the only one who were awake.  
Oscar was unconscious again, his breathing shallow but still there.  
Robbie sat on the bed next to Oscar, holding his hand in his, waiting for the worst to happen. Aziraphale was in his chair, watching the picture in front of him, wondering if the past five years would have been different had Oscar stayed with Robbie as his lover instead of Bosie.  
If this wouldn't be the end of the great Oscar Wilde. Left alone, depressed, heartbroken, lost …  
Could he have been even happier if he had simply stayed with Constance?  
Aziraphale still loved to remember their first meeting, when he had laid eyes on the tall, young and handsome gentleman back in England.  
Their first conversation about one of Oscar's poems.  
The shy kiss he had received after a long and alcohol-sodden night out in London.  
He still couldn't believe that this should be over soon.

“Are you going to miss him?” Robbie's soft voice brought him back to reality and Aziraphale raised his head to meet Robbie's pale blue eyes.

Aziraphale sighed heavily and rubbed his hands over his face. “I will,” he answered honestly. “I … I love him. And Oscar was the first one who ever loved me back …”

“Ezra,” Robbie sighed.

“He was such an inspiration,” Aziraphale continued. “And … I will miss him dearly. And I am certain you will too, dear?”

Robbie looked down at Oscar, letting his fingers glide over Oscar's cheek. “He was my first love and he will be forever. But that's life, his way ends here, ours don't. I am sure I'll be reunited with him one day.”

Aziraphale couldn't add anything to Robbie's words.  
They sat in silence again after their short conversation. Reggie organised some dinner for them, even though not one of them was really hungry.  
The hours ticked by slowly and it was unnerving to no end. Robbie, as well as Reggie got restless and Aziraphale sent them for a walk around midnight. He promised to watch over Oscar and after they were gone Aziraphale stood and went to the bathroom to replace the water in the basin.  
Aziraphale stayed there for a bit longer to sort his thoughts and emotions. He needed to stay strong for those poor humans. He had to ignore his own feelings for a bit longer.  
When he returned to the bedroom, he found Oscar awake. Aziraphale placed the bowl back on the bedside table before he sat down on the bed and took Oscar's hand in his.

“Ezra ...” Oscar's voice sounded rough and unused.

Aziraphale took a small glass from the table and helped Oscar sit up so he could drink a few sips of water.

“It must be serious if you're here,” Oscar tried to joke but was interrupted by a coughing fit.

“It is,” Aziraphale answered. “You're dying Oscar and I am here to say goodbye to you.”

Oscar closed his eyes. “I am afraid, Ezra.”

“You don't have to be. I'll be there with you until the very end.”

Oscar smiled weakly. “You're an angel, Ezra.”

Aziraphale's heart clenched at his words. Oscar's eyes closed again, his breath started to even out.

**~*~**

Aziraphale fell asleep shortly after Robbie and Reginald had returned from their walk. He usually didn't give into this human need, but he had been exhausted. He had never been this tired and as it seemed that it took a toll on his body. His dreams were ominous, pictures without context and when he felt a hand on his shoulder he woke with a start.  
Aziraphale knew what had happened as soon as he saw Reginald's tear stained face and he felt an unknown cold run through his body. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to contain his feelings, holding back the tears that started to well up in his eyes. Aziraphale sat up in his chair and risked a glance at the bed. Robbie was kneeling before it, one hand still holding Oscar's in his while the other covered his face. His body shook while he cried shamelessly over his lost friend.  
Aziraphale had the feeling that his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces and that it was broken beyond repair. His whole body was aching and his mind was a turmoil of thoughts and flickers of memories. He got up from his chair, walking over to Robbie and Oscar. He let his hand glide into the dark mob of Robbie's hair, while he took one last glance at Oscar. He seemed as if he was asleep, looking peaceful for the first time in years. He would be so dearly missed.  
Aziraphale went down to the floor, kneeling next to Robbie, his hand still in his hair. The young man turned his head, facing Aziraphale, tears still spilling from his eyes.

“He's gone, Ezra ...” Robbie sobbed. “Gone ...”

“I know,” Aziraphale answered, a knot forming in his throat. “I know ...”

Aziraphale pulled Robbie into his arms without a second thought and let him cry into his shoulder. Reginald sat down behind Aziraphale, with his back against the bed, his hand warm on Aziraphale's back, trying to comfort him.

Oscar Wilde had died on the early morning of 30th November 1900, surrounded by his three closest friends.

**~*~**

He went through the next days like he was in a trance, wondering more than once, how Robbie and Reginald managed to stay this calm and collected, while he felt like he was falling apart entirely. Aziraphale knew the feeling of loss. Over the centuries he had known so many people, had seen them wander into his life and leave after the short span of a few decades. He had outlived so many of them, had seen the worst things humans were able to do to each other. Aziraphale would never forget the day on Golgotha, witnessing the crucifixion of Jesus. He had felt the grief of his followers, had even felt Crowley's dismay. But he had never experienced it on such a personal level before. And he hoped that it would never happen again. But he stomped down his own feelings to be able to help his friends through this hard time and to get everything in order for Oscar's funeral.  
The funeral itself was a small affair and it rained the whole time, as if heaven was weeping with them. Aziraphale was drenched to his bones and all he wanted was to go home to his bookshop and be alone. Away from all this … All these feelings.

Robbie actually begged him to stay for a few days more, but Aziraphale couldn't, and he left Paris only a few hours after the burial. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep his facade upright. How long he would be able to contain his own emotions. Aziraphale didn't know what would happen if he let them show, he had never been in this situation before. If he would start to perform miracles, and probably not the good ones. He wasn't even sure if this miserable weather was his doing, and he was afraid of what could happen. Maybe he would flood all of Paris because of his own misery. Or he would loose control of his human vessel and turn into his 'real' self.  
And he wanted to be home, he wanted to be surrounded by his books. Maybe a familiar place would comfort him and he would stop feeling the weight of it all.  
So he said his goodbyes to Robbie and Reginald, promised to keep in touch and to let them know when he arrived back in England. After that he gathered his belongings and left.  
Aziraphale didn't bother to travel the human way this time. He searched for a quiet place before he miracled himself back to London, into his bookshop.

Aziraphale stood in the middle of the room for a moment, before he dropped his bag. He let his eyes wander over the shelves full of books until they stopped at the first editions of Oscar's works.  
To see them was all it took to break Aziraphale.

He was overwhelmed by the sorrow that had built up since Oscar's death. He covered his face with his hands, tears streaming freely down his face while heavy sobs wrecked his body.  
Even if he had wanted, he wouldn't have been able to control it. His whole body was shaking and it felt like someone was holding his heart and was squeezing it as hard as possible, trying to stop it from beating.  
Aziraphale dropped to his knees, curling into himself.  
He had lost Oscar, had lost the one person he had really cared for, he had loved and whom had loved him back, for the first time since the beginning. Aziraphale didn't really know what made Oscar so different from others. They'd met so so many years ago at Oxford, Oscar had just turned twenty a few months prior. And Aziraphale had been charmed by the young clever man who was able to show him that there was still some good in mankind, who brought back his faith in his duty on earth. Oscar was gentle with him, never asked anything of Aziraphale that Oscar wasn't sure Aziraphale would give to him, even when he wanted to. Oh and Oscar had wanted him from the start. Oscar had wormed his way into Aziraphale's heart with small things. Small poems, one-liners dedicated to him. The feeling of friendship turned into something else over the years and Aziraphale only started to understand what it was, when it nearly was too late. Slowly but steady he had fallen in love with Oscar.  
Now he would never forgive himself for staying in London instead of going to France with Oscar. He could have lived with him there, could have built a small bookshop in Paris as well. Maybe he could have prevented all of it if he just have stayed with him, had followed his heart for once! It hadn't been fair that Oscar had been punished for the simple fact of loving someone! A fact that made Aziraphale angry beyond belief. But he had been afraid. Afraid of his superiors, of what they could think, of what they would do if they found out Aziraphale had fallen in love with a human!  
Aziraphale also mourned the loss of all the wonderful plays and stories Oscar could have written if he was still alive!  
And if it always felt like that, Aziraphale never never wanted to experience love again. It hurt too much.  
And if he should ever feel love for someone else again, he wanted to die with his love.  
A new wave of hurt and loss washed over him, while Aziraphale cried shamelessly into the carpet.

**~*~**

Aziraphale didn't know how much time had passed, when a soft _'Angel'_ pulled him out of his stupor. Warm soft hands were gliding over his side and lower back. When the fingers reached his face they turned it slowly.  
Quiet tears were still streaming down his cheeks and he was still lying on the ground in the middle of his bookshop. It felt like he had been there for a long time, days even, and Aziraphale couldn't care less. His heart was still hurting, he still mourned Oscar.

“Angel,” the intruder said once again, as soft as the first time.

Aziraphale wished he would go away and leave him alone in his misery. But the invader was very insistent so Aziraphale opened his eyes. Someone had turned on the lights in the shop and it hurt in the first moment, so he closed his eyes again and opened them slower, getting used to the brightness of the lamps.  
Aziraphale took in his surroundings, the cold hard floor he was still lying on, the smell of his books and … sulphur? Aziraphale turned his head a bit and realised that someone was kneeling in front of him. He raised his head a bit more and was confronted with the worried face of a certain demon.

“Crowley,” he croaked. His voice sounded awful.

“There you are,” Crowley said with a small smile.

Aziraphale tried to get up but he wasn't able to control his movements, he still felt shaky and unsteady. When Crowley's hands wrapped around his arms, he gave him a grateful look and Crowley helped him to sit up.

“I've been trying to contact you for days now, without answer. Only to come here to find you lying on the floor, crying. What happened, angel?” Worry was clear in the demon's voice.

Aziraphale glanced over to the books and felt a new wave of tears well up in his eyes.

“It's … Oscar's dead ...”

Realisation dawned on Crowley's face. “Oh … oh Angel …”

Crowley didn't say any more, and they sat on the floor in silence.. Aziraphale stared out of the window. It was nice to have Crowley here with him. He was a quiet presence, and just to have Crowley by his side helped Aziraphale to calm down a bit, to sort his thoughts. They'd never done that before and it was strange that Crowley was so gentle instead of making fun of him. Aziraphale was surprised, but he liked it.

“What date is it?” Aziraphale finally asked.

“December the 10th. How long have you been back?”

Aziraphale tried to remember but the time since Oscar's death was a blur to him.

“I don't know,” Aziraphale answered.

Aziraphale felt Crowley's fingers next to his on the floor, nearly touching.

“You must be hungry?”

Aziraphale shrugged and turned his head to Crowley, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Crowley shook his head once before rising gracefully from the floor, dusting off his clothes. Then he stretched out his hand to Aziraphale to help him up from the ground. Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, but then he took Crowley's hand and let himself be helped up.  
Maybe Crowley held his hand a moment longer than it would have been appropriate.  
Maybe it was his way to say _'I am sorry for your loss, Angel.'_

“Come on, lets get dinner. There's a new restaurant I wanted to show you.” Crowley grinned at Aziraphale.

And maybe … maybe Aziraphale felt a little bit better now.

_'The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the grandest intention'  
– Oscar Wilde -_


	3. Chapter 3

**There has to be a first time for everything | 03**

A few weeks had passed since the nopocalypse. Aziraphale still couldn't believe that they had been able to avert it, that Adam had been able to change reality to save the world.  
And that he and Crowley had been able to survive their trials. They'd chosen their faces wisely, as Agnes had suggested, and now they were free. Free from Heaven and Hell. Free to do whatever they wanted.  
Okay, nearly whatever they wanted …  
Actually they had spent most of the time together. Going on walks having dinner and one time they had the picnic Aziraphale had suggested back in 1967. It had been as lovely as Aziraphale had imagined. The day had been nothing but perfect: warm and sunny with almost no clouds. With the Bentley it had been a short trip to Kew Gardens, and they’d spent the afternoon, lying on a blanket, savouring the food and champagne Aziraphale had packed in a basket that morning. Aziraphale had loved every second of it and he had stayed in the Bentley for a bit longer than necessary after Crowley drove him back to the bookshop.

Tonight they'd agreed to stay at Crowley's place and have a drink (or more).  
Aziraphale was sitting on the comfortable sofa he had miracled there after the first few times he’d visited Crowley’s flat. Not that he didn’t like Crowley’s flat, he liked it very much. It was spacious and the room with his plants was nothing but beautiful, but the demon had no sense for decoration or furnishing. Aziraphale had left his coat and shoes by the door, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and he felt deeply relaxed tonight. Crowley was lounging next to him, his thigh casually touching Aziraphale's.

The touching had started during the bus ride back from Tadfield. Crowley had entered the bus first, taking one of the seats in the middle of the vehicle and Aziraphale simply sat down next to him, which earned him a curious look from Crowley, but he didn’t say anything. Aziraphale was tired of hiding his friendship with Crowley, and as he had said: they were on their own side now. No Heaven, no Hell, no God to judge them for the friendship they had achieved over all those millenia.  
It had been a long bus ride, Aziraphale was looking out of the window, watching the dark scenery passing and he was so caught up in his thoughts, that it startled him a bit as he felt something against his shoulder. A small smile crept on his face. As it seemed, Crowley had fallen asleep. He watched the red-haired demon, affection blooming in his chest. Crowley looked exhausted, that was for sure, and there were still dark smudges on his cheeks and nose. Slowly, not to wake Crowley, Aziraphale lifted his hand and cleared the dirt away with his thumb. Crowley’s nose scrunched up in his sleep, but he didn’t wake. With a soft sigh Aziraphale looked down, their hands resting on the seat beneath them. Without a second thought he intertwined their fingers, savouring the warm feeling of Crowley’s skin against his own.  
Crowley woke before they arrived in London, his look gliding to their entangled hands. He said nothing, just squeezed Aziraphale’s hand a bit tighter.  
From that moment on, it had been a hand on the lower back here, a brush of fingers there or just a simple handshake, maybe a tad longer than usually required.  
Aziraphale had the feeling that Crowley was testing how far he could go, how much Aziraphale would tolerate, before he would tell him to stop. But he didn't want to stop him. He would take every little brush, every little slide of skin against skin, until Crowley finally bucked up and acted on his own desires. As it seemed he had finally caught up with Crowley, but sometimes Crowley seemed to be afraid, touching Aziraphale before withdrawing completely, panicking visibly, letting go of him as if he had been burned. And Aziraphale understood. They had been dancing around each other for so long. There was only one dance Aziraphale had ever bothered to learn, and it wasn’t this one. So neither of them was good at it. And if Aziraphale had to wait for another 6000 years it would be okay for him, he didn’t want to push too hard.  
All he could do was to wait for Crowley's next move.

Crowley refilled his glass again and took a sip before his head lolled in Aziraphale's direction. Their eyes met for a brief moment and Crowley's expression changed into something – Aziraphale wasn't sure – but the first word that came to his mind was: hungry.  
It could have been just his imagination, but Crowley turned his whole body to him, placing his arm on the back of the couch and propping his cheek on his hand, calculating his next words.  
Aziraphale held his breath, waiting.

“So,” Crowley started, swirling the red liquid in his glass around. “Rumour has it that an angel had an affair with Oscar Wilde. You know something about that?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrow. “Well, I don't know about such a rumour.”

Crowley let his sunglasses slide down his nose, giving Aziraphale his _'I don't believe you'_ stare.

“Really? I heard it from a very reliable source.”

“Did you now?” Aziraphale asked with a teasing tone.

Crowley nodded. “Said he saw the little cherub getting really needy under Wilde's attention. Said he was a loud one, a real screamer.”

“Is that so?” Aziraphale remembered that he thought he had seen someone that night. Someone with red hair and golden eyes. “And how long has your 'reliable source' been spying on said angel and Oscar, after said angel closed the door for good?”

“Don't know, quite a while I guess? Probably watched them through the keyhole.”

Aziraphale's eyes went wide. “Good Lord, Crowley! Why didn't you just leave? That's … that's ...”

Aziraphale was speechless. Had Crowley really watched him with Oscar? The whole time?

“So you knew it was me, Angel?” A small smirk appeared on Crowley's lips. Aziraphale was still flustered and took a gulp from his wine.  
“Wouldn’t have thought you'd participate in such business after your words back in 1862. Imagine my surprise when I woke from a long nap, only to find you _'fraternising'_ with Oscar Wilde, of all people!”

Aziraphale tried to stay calm. It was strange to get his suspicion from back then confirmed. He had always secretly wondered if he’d imagined it was Crowley because he’d wanted to see him there? Had he wanted Crowley to be jealous? Had Crowley been jealous? And did it change anything now? Not really. Except that he now knew that Crowley possibly had a voyeuristic streak.  
Aziraphale placed his glass on the table before he folded his hands and placed them in his lap.

“He wasn't the first lover I had,” Aziraphale answered with a soft smile, chuckling at Crowley's startled expression. “Oh don't look so surprised. I've been on earth as long as you and you really thought that I'd never had sex until that day?”

“I … we … you … you never showed any interest in others when we were together!”

“Well that's because I was with you those times, dear.”  
Crowley tried to interrupt him, but Aziraphale silenced him with a shake of his head. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath before he continued.  
“I had a lot of time to think about it, you know. You became my friend, Crowley. My best friend. Over the last 6000 years you saved my life more than once, the last time only a few weeks ago. When you came to that church back in 1941 and rescued me and my books from destruction … I think that was the moment where I really understood that there was more between us. More than just friendship. It was the moment I realised that it was love. And I am sorry that it took me so long to admit it to myself. To overcome my devotion to Heaven … to God.”  
Aziraphale opened his eyes again, looking at Crowley who stared at him with big unbelieving eyes.  
“I've always cared for you, have always loved you, deep down. More than anything, but I've always been too afraid to act on those feelings. And I never thought you might feel the same until you told me that you lost your best friend after my bookshop burned down.” Aziraphale raised his hand and placed it softly on Crowley's cheek.  
“I love you,” Aziraphale confessed.

He watched Crowley as the words started to filter into his brain. With every second that passed the blush on Crowley's cheeks got deeper and started to spread over his face, to his ears and down his neck.  
A strangled noise escaped Crowley and he hid his face in the crook of his arm, breaking the contact with Aziraphale's hand on his face.  
Aziraphale smiled amused at the display as Crowley mumbled something into the fabric of his shirt.

“What was that, dear?”

Crowley turned his head a bit, his eyes meeting Aziraphale's. “I said: You can't simply say that without warning, Angel!”

Aziraphale carefully took the wine glass Crowley was still holding and placed it next to his on the table.

“Why not?” he asked when he turned back.

Crowley sat back as well, while he stuttered some incoherent things. “Wh … Why not?! Don't be ridiculous, Angel! You can't just blurt out your feelings like that!”

Aziraphale smirked. “I don't see why not, dear.” He moved a bit closer to Crowley, placing a hand on his knee, invading his personal space. “And I am certain that you feel the same for me. Why else would you have stayed back then and listened to Oscar taking me against that wall? Did you even stay after that? Wished it was your name I moaned?”

Aziraphale had let his hand wander up Crowley's thigh and it was now resting against Crowley's side. Their faces mere centimetres apart and Aziraphale licked his lips, a movement to which Crowley's eyes flickered down briefly, but he looked back up immediately. Aziraphale bit the inside of his lip.

“What do you want, Crowley?” he whispered with a deep voice.

Crowley seemed to hesitate for a moment and a quiet **_'You …'_** fell from his lips.  
As soon as the words left Crowley's lips, Aziraphale placed his against Crowley's. He didn't fight, didn't seem to want to. Crowley's hands were fisted in the fabric of Aziraphale's waistcoat, while they kissed softly.  
If someone could see them now, Aziraphale wouldn't care. He was happy and nothing, or no-one for that matter, could have been able to take that happiness away from him. If this had happened before the nopocalypse, then he might have had second thoughts.  
But even if he would fall now, Aziraphale didn’t care anymore. The only thing he cared about right now was the tender kiss, the slow hesitant movements of their lips, the warmth of Crowley's body against his.

Crowley was the first to break their kiss, removing his hands from Aziraphale's waistcoat. Aziraphale looked at him, puzzlement clear on his face, but Crowley gave him a warm smile before he took Aziraphale's hand in his and interlaced their fingers. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of Aziraphale's hand.

“Angel …” Crowley whispered and sank against the backrest, his free hand covering his eyes again, still smiling.  
“The things you do to me, Angel,” Crowley chuckled. “I’ve imagined how this day would go so many times. How it would be ME making you swoon and blush. Now look at us.” He turned his head to Aziraphale, removing his hand from his face and locking eyes with the angel.  
“But you are right. I … I feel the same for you. It’s just … it’s a bit overwhelming. And I never thought this day would come, that we would stay just friends forever. But now … oh Angel … now we can spend eternity together.”

Crowley rose gracefully from the sofa, tugging Aziraphale with him in the direction of the bedroom. Aziraphale followed him without hesitation, at least no one would disturb them there.

It was a short way and Crowley dragged Aziraphale into the room behind him. After he had closed the door _(properly this time)_ , Aziraphale was pulled into a tight hug, which was followed by a passionate kiss. Aziraphale closed his eyes and placed his hand on Crowley's cheeks, keeping him close, wishing that this kiss would never end.  
Finally he was able to have it. Since his realisation back in 1941 he was allowed to have this, act on his feelings, his longings, _his desires_.   
Aziraphale was now allowed to touch Crowley, to let his fingers glide through the red hair, feel the softness of it. To let his hands wander freely over Crowley’s body, to explore the skin hidden underneath clothes, to find out if there were freckles all over Crowley’s body or only on his cheeks! He was allowed to kiss him, whenever he felt the desire, to show others how this incredible being belonged to him, that Crowley was his! Aziraphale couldn’t wait to feel Crowley inside him, to hear him moan … how his name sounded when it fell from Crowley’s lips in the most intimate moments.  
He wanted all of this and it had been denied to him for so long.

Impatient to get on with all that, he broke the kiss. Crowley whined at the loss of his lips, so Aziraphale kissed him again. A short press of his lips against Crowley's mouth.  
He pressed closer to his lover and Crowley placed his hands on Aziraphale's hips, caressing him through the layers of clothing. Aziraphale removed the sunglasses gently from Crowley's face, letting them fall to the floor. Crowley blinked a few times before he opened his eyes and locked them with Aziraphale’s.  
Aziraphale wanted to see Crowley's eyes, his beautiful golden snake eyes, that looked so longingly at him. Crowley had always been self-conscious about them, tried to hide them and his heritage from humans. But for Aziraphale they were the most wonderful thing on earth. Crowley had always been most open when he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and Aziraphale treasured these moments the most. He would never forget the first time he had seen Crowley on the walls of Eden, and the small flutter his heart had made when the demon had given Aziraphale his full attention.  
Aziraphale let his thumb glide over the soft skin under Crowley's eyes, making him blink. With his other hand he pulled Crowley down and placed soft kisses on his eyelids. Crowley’s breath hitched before he let it out in a shuddering sigh. Aziraphale wanted to show Crowley all his adoration.

He pressed his body against Crowley's and slowly started to walk him to the bed. When Crowley's knees hit the bed he sat down. Aziraphale stood in front of him, looking down, taking in the picture before him.  
Crowley's deep red cheeks, his kiss swollen lips, his dishevelled hair, his blown pupils, his rumpled clothes. He was breathtakingly beautiful.  
And he was finally his.

Crowley opened his legs a bit so he could pull Aziraphale between them, bringing him back closer. Aziraphale bent down, sealing Crowley's lips with another kiss.  
Things started to get heated when Crowley's tongue pushed into Aziraphale's mouth and he let his hands wander, kneading Aziraphale's ass. The angel moaned and pushed forward. Crowley understood and let himself fall back onto the bed, pulling Aziraphale with him. After a bit of shuffling they laid down between the pillows, Aziraphale sitting in Crowley's lap, who seemed to marvel the weight of Aziraphale on him, his fingers now digging into the soft flesh of his hips, pulling him even closer.  
Aziraphale looked down hungrily at Crowley, all spread out for him to devour and Crowley glowed under the attention. Aziraphale's hands roamed over Crowley's chest, opening the buttons of his shirt. Aziraphale bit his lip at the marvellous and unharmed skin and he couldn't resist the urge to kiss over it.  
He let his lips wander over Crowley's chest, nipping and biting on some spots, while he opened his own shirt and threw it on the ground.  
Crowley looked at him with amazement in his eyes, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful than Aziraphale. His eyes weren’t able to stay on one place for long, wandering shamelessly over Aziraphale’s body. His hands wandered over his body as if Crowley wanted to touch him everywhere at the same time. When their eyes met again, the demons expression was unguarded and more vulnerable than Aziraphale had ever seen it.  
Crowley's hands moved up Aziraphale's arms, over his shoulders before they ghosted down his chest, making Aziraphale shiver slightly. Never had he thought that Crowley's touch would be so gentle, so loving.

Crowley sat, pressing himself up so he could reach Aziraphale's lips once more, silencing the moan that escaped his mouth before he started to map out Aziraphale's body the same way he had done to Crowley.  
Nimble fingers slid over every millimetre of skin, caressing all the small risings and valleys of his body. Aziraphale let his head fall back, basking in the feeling of Crowley's hot hands and lips.  
Despite the desperation he started with, it seemed that Crowley wanted to slow it down. He placed a hand on Aziraphale's back before he pushed himself up and rolled them over, so that Aziraphale was lying under him. While Crowley kissed him again and without hurry, he removed his own shirt and slowly got rid of the rest of their clothing.  
Crowley moved himself between Aziraphale's spread legs, who groaned against his lips as their bodies touched for the first time. Aziraphale placed a hand back on his cheek, deepening the kiss again, whilst Crowley's hand rested on his chest, directly over his heart.

They stayed like this for a long time, bodies touching, unmoving, holding each other, simply kissing.  
Aziraphale shuddered every once in a while, when another wave of love from Crowley washed over him. It was stronger than anything he had ever felt before and it made goosebumps rise on his skin. Crowley moved one of his hands down Aziraphale's thigh, hooking it under his knee and hitching it up against his hip.  
Aziraphale moaned into Crowley's mouth, breaking the kiss when their hard members touched.  
Crowley started to move his hips, dragging his cock against Aziraphale's agonisingly slow, again and again and again. Their lips lay on each others, their breaths mingling between them, while Aziraphale couldn’t bear to close his eyes. He wanted to remember this moment forever.  
Crowley's blissed out expression, how his lashes fanned out over his cheeks, his sweaty hair plastered against his forehead. How the moonlight lit his beautiful face, casting shadows over his cheeks, illuminating his pale skin and accentuating his freckles.  
Aziraphale placed one hand on Crowley's shoulder, the other on his cheek, before he kissed him languidly, letting his tongue brush against Crowley's, luring it back into his mouth. At Crowley's next thrust, Aziraphale let his head fall back with a loud moan and he guided Crowley's face into his neck.  
He let the hand on Crowley's shoulder fall back on the bed and Crowley let go of his thigh to intertwine their fingers. Crowley's breath was hot against Aziraphale's neck and he felt like he was on fire, Crowley's fingers clenched hard around his, while his movements became erratic and he came with a low hiss between them.  
It was like all the built up tension of Crowley's feelings for Aziraphale hit him in that moment: lust, jealousy, need, want, fear … but also love, so much love, he felt more than anything.  
Aziraphale turned his head, pressed his lips against Crowley's jaw and came hard, only a gasp leaving his mouth, while he clung to Crowley.  
He lay boneless under Crowley, who's lips moved against the skin of his shoulder.

“Aziraphale ...” Crowley sounded small, more vulnerable than Aziraphale had ever heard him, as if he would fear that he was gone the second he opened his eyes.

“I am here,” he whispered against Crowley's ear. “I am real.”

Aziraphale moved them, so they were on their sides, holding Crowley tight in his arms, while he spread out his wings, curling them around Crowley, keeping him safe.  
They lay in silence for a long time, enjoying the company, the warmth of each other. Aziraphale carded his fingers through Crowley's hair, marvelling at it's softness against his skin.  
When he felt Crowley's lips on his chest, he looked down and met his eyes, a mischievous glint in them.

“May I kiss you, angel?” Crowley asked, while he pressed his hand against Aziraphale's shoulder and turned him back on his back. Crowley kissed Aziraphale softly. “Let me take care of you.”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley. “Of course, dear.”

_'You don't love someone for their looks,  
or their clothes,  
or for their fancy car,  
but because they sing a song only you can hear.'  
\- Oscar Wilde -_


	4. Chapter 4

**There has to be a first time for everything | 04**

It was the first time after the nopocalypse that Crowley went downstairs.  
Lord Beelzebub themself had requested his advice on a very important matter, very hush hush and no one else was allowed to know about it. Top secret, you see.

Crowley had been reluctant at the summoning and he went with great caution, wringing the promise from Aziraphale that he would come looking if he wasn't back later that evening.

The 'top secret' matter had been an advice how to tempt an Angel, because Beelzebub thought Crowley had been very successful with Aziraphale. Crowley had gaped at his former superior, sunglasses slipping down his nose, his eyes as big as saucers. They wanted to know what now?

“Come again?”

“How have you been able to seduce the prinzzzipality Azziraphale?”

Crowley shook his head in disbelief. “Never done such thing … we became friends, fell in love over 6000 years … that's it. No tempting, no seducing involved.”

“How did you become friendsss then?” the Lord of Flies sneered.

Crowley shrugged. “Slithered up to him back in Eden, started a conversation, that's all. We talked, he admitted that he gave away his flaming sword and I was lost.”

Beelzebub stared at him with hard eyes. “That's all?”

“Eeerrr, yes. Yes that was all it took. Sorry I'm not a bigger help here, my liege.” The last part he added with a sarcastic tone.

Beelzebub seemed to be in deep thought after that and dismissed Crowley with the wave of their hand. Crowley shrugged again and left the Prince of Hell to their brooding. The sooner he got back to his husband, the sooner he could cuddle up with Aziraphale and enjoy the evening.  
Maybe he would take Aziraphale out for dinner. They haven't been for a while, too occupied with each other. Or maybe he should bring some food with him? Probably from Aziraphale's favourite Indian place. Or he could pop over the channel, organizing some Crepes for his Angel?

Crowley was so deep in thought that he got lost in the corridors of Hell. Which was, actually, very easy, if you asked him. Everything looked the same down here and once you took a wrong turn it would take you ages to get back to the place you wanted to go. He'd gotten lost so badly once that it had taken him the better part of a year to find a way back out.  
A frustrated groan escaped Crowley's lips when he realised that he had taken one or maybe two wrong turns and was walking down the corridor to the first circle of Hell. Crowley looked for directions, when he recognised a few familiar faces. Some musicians, poets, artists who had been tempted by his colleagues.  
Some of them waved at him and he waved back.  
He was bad at remembering their names, he was sure Aziraphale would know every single one of them, and Crowley let out a loud sigh.

“Got lost?” a deep, friendly voice asked.

Crowley turned, a snarky reply already on his lips, but it died the moment he saw the person who had asked.

“Oscar Wilde!” Crowley exclaimed loudly and the other man had the audacity to chuckle.

“Guilty as charged,” Oscar laughed. “It's nice to be recognised for a change.”

Oscar smiled at Crowley, who still stared at him in utter bafflement.  
His angel would never believe him.  
His angel, who had been fucked by the very man in front of him.  
His angel, who had been in love with this guy and had grieved for him for so many years!

“You seem somewhat familiar,” Oscar said after a short moment. “Have we met before?”

“Hngk ...” Crowley didn't know what to say. But maybe he should stick with the truth. “Yeah … we met back at one of your plays. A fri …. my husband was … is a big fan of your work.”

“Husband?” Oscar asked, bewilderment clear in his voice. “We were never allowed to show our true nature back then. Let alone be married!”

“Uuuhh … well … things changed over the last 119 years, I guess?”

“But … how?”

“Demon,” Crowley said, gesturing at himself. “And my … my husband, guess you knew him under a different name.”

Oscar shook his head. “I think you should explain that to me. Fancy a tea?”

Crowley shrugged. He had been doing that a lot today. And he still had time. Aziraphale didn't expect him home for another couple of hours.

“Sure, why not.”

**~*~**

Oscar had a small flat in the first circle.  
He might be in Hell, but they still provided residences for their inhabitants. Especially those who didn't do many bad things.  
Oscar made them tea, after he had asked Crowley to sit down. He was a decent host and even provided cookies for his unusual guest. When he had poured them both a cup of tea and sat down opposite of Crowley at the small coffee table, he'd asked again about Crowley's husband.

“His name is Aziraphale, but you knew him under the name Ezra Fell.”

“No!” the author exclaimed, his eyes went wide, some color draining from his face, after Crowley had answered. “Ezra? Ezra Fell is your husband? He … is he a demon too?”

“Naaah … as if Aziraphale would be a demon! You met him. You knew him! How could he be a demon?! He's an Angel.”

“An Angel,” Oscar muttered and slumped back into his chair. “That's why he loved me?”

Crowley frowned. They'd never talked about it, but he doubted that Aziraphale had loved Oscar just because he was an Angel. There had been more to it.

“No … no I don't think so. We have seen and done so many things over the millennia. And I've known Aziraphale from the start. But I've never seen him as devastated as he was after your death. He was heartbroken and for ages I thought he would never recover.”

Oscar placed down his cup. “I am truly sorry that I made him feel this way. He has always been special to me. I don't know why, I never was able to figure it out. But he supported me from the day we met and he always seemed genuine in his liking for my work. He was always there when I needed advice. He … he was with me until the end. And I never thanked him … for anything.”

A small smile spread over Crowley's face. “He would have said _'It's alright my dear boy. Don't make a fuss.'_ ”

Oscar laughed. “Yes, that sounds a lot like Ezra,” he agreed. “And you're married now?”

Crowley nodded and played with the golden ring on his left ring finger. He still couldn't believe his luck sometimes, that his angel had agreed to his proposal. That he had said _'Of course Crowley! Yes, oh heavens, Yes!'_

“You are a very lucky man, Anthony,” Oscar smiled sadly.

**~*~**

They talked for hours, Crowley updating Oscar on what had happened over the last two centuries and how they'd prevented the apocalypse. They also shared all their precious memories of one particular Angel.  
It was a soft afternoon and Crowley was somehow glad that he’d run into Oscar. There would never be someone else who would understand his feelings for Aziraphale better than the man opposite of him.

“You’ve had a very spectacular life, Anthony. But it's getting late. I should get you back to Ezra before he starts to get worried.”

Crowley placed down his cup and nodded. “Yeah, might be a good idea. Before he gets weird ideas and really starts to search for me down here.”

Oscar chuckled. “Oh I would die to see that. Our lovely, beautiful Angel fighting demons to save the love of his life.”

Crowley raised his eyebrow. “Not sure about that,” he said honestly. He loved the idea of knowing that Aziraphale was home, safe and sound. “Thank you Oscar for the chat and the tea. Maybe we'll see each other again. Now that I know you're down here.”

He got up from his seat and shook hands with Oscar. He really had enjoyed the afternoon in Oscar's company and he now understood why Aziraphale had been so fond of him. He was an easy going person, well-read and smart, and Oscar really listened, asking the right questions and was able to stand his ground on nearly every topic. But today there had only been one: Aziraphale.  
And it was astounding to Crowley that they both, Oscar and he, shared the love of the same incredible being.

The writer walked Crowley to the door and watched the demon leave. Crowley had nearly reached the corner, when Oscar called his name again. He turned his head, just to hear Oscar's next words, shouted down a corridor in Hell at full volume.

“Pray tell me! Does Ezra still do that wicked thing with his tongue where you think you're going to lose your mind?”

Crowley's mind came to a screeching halt and he nearly discorporated from embarrassment, while Oscar cackled loudly, standing in the door of his hellish flat.

**-The end-**


End file.
